The Fall and The Rise
by Rogue.Insurrectionist
Summary: Bored with life as a college student, Dahlia takes a sabbatical, during which she finds herself in an all too familiar world where the name of the game is thrones. Follow her as she tries to change outcomes, save her favorite characters, and cope with the problems of her past. [Based primarily in the Book universe... SO SPOILERS] [This is an Original Character story.] OC/Various
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**** So, I am kind of new to this, so let me know what you think of this chapter. I figured it would be best to start off with a shorter chapter, don't want to bog you down with verbose chapters too soon. I have some fun ideas for this thing, so I hope at least one person might want to take this journey with me. Please review with your thoughts and such so I can get better at my writing. :) THANK YOU FOR READING!**

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Chapter 1: The Clichéd Sophomore Slump

No one ever dreams of mediocrity.

No one ever wishes that when they would end up in the prime of their life doing nothing important and heading straight for lower middle at break-neck speeds.

When I finally realized it happened I lost it.

Utterly and completely.

But eventually we have to pick up the pieces of our pathetic lives and take the time to decide something, something important, something that will break the curse and make life mean something again.

That's mediocrity for you, though.

No one wants it to happen, but for most of us it just sort of does.

It is a pit from which few escape.

* * *

The sun peeked in through the slats of my blinds around midday. I had been lying there for an hour already, motionless with the gears of my mind grinding away like they always did. It always got worse after my parents came for their bi-monthly visit. Any peace I had worked towards would be smashed by their cold compassion, and I would be stuck with a mind that couldn't rest, consistently working non-stop, going over recent events, reciting old trivia and new information.

Mainly I would just hear my mother's voice from somewhere in the grey matter.

_You remember everything, why don't you just apply yourself more? That way you can get a good job and find a good man, and you won't do that thing again._

A part of me almost wants to put in even the least bit of effort. i\Into anything productive, anything at all, and maybe the reassurance I give my unloving mother can be genuine for once, but I can't find it in me. There's nothing left to give; I just don't care. If only it were that easy, but nothing is. Not for me. "Just apply yourself and life will be this great thing that has all this meaning to it." False. If one good event could snowball and make my life something worth living I would be so grateful. I would be glad, and happy, and I'm sure I could fix everything I have spent so long breaking. I sincerely doubt it is possible, though. I'd just burn everything up again.

I rolled over in a huff to sit up and bask in those bits of sunlight. I lifted my arms up with a yawn and stretched every way I could. The sounds of popping broke up the silenceoff my room.

This is the best I would feel all day; best get the rest of it done with.

I started living on my own when I turned 16. My parents had always been the absentee type. I was raised by a slew of nannies in a horde of different houses, so when I started college it didn't feel all that different. It was the same nothingness, and I was still nobody. I lived in the same sort of empty home; only this time I expected it. Since then I have become a child of habit, my only true parent, and my year long sabbatical was no different.

I still woke up; did my usual half hour of yoga before going for a run.

Some days I'd run an easy mile, others a well-paced 5k, but days like today, when my mother's words are still fresh, I push it to five miles.

If I end up feeling like it, and I always do, I head over to the boxing gym just down the street from my apartment to work the bag and dead lift until I'm completely worn out.

Then, whenever it is that I go home, I shower and do a cool down stretch. The only difference is that now, after my workout, I don't read textbooks. Time off of school means speed-reading for pleasure, not knowledge, not unless I feel like it. I feel like revisiting my favorites. I so often feel like escaping these walls and going somewhere far away.

Eventually, and sometimes even hours later if the book of the day is too good to put down, I would mix up a salad with a protein and fruit smoothie. Stay healthy. Stay nourished. Eat well and you will feel well. That's what they told me; who am I to argue? I'm just a lost kid.

These are the things I do every day, rain or shine. This is the best part of my day. It's simple. It all keeps me busy. It all keeps my mind occupied. It produces endorphins, which in turn make me feel like I'm almost happy. Sometimes, during the longer runs, I will have minutes where I don't think at all. I don't think of random factoids I read about when I was twelve. I don't think of sections of textbooks I borrowed from friends last semester. I don't think of anything but moving my legs. It's bliss.

I wish I could find that kind of clarity more often. I wish I could just not have to think all the time, like normal people. But I'll never really be normal.

I had only just turned on the faucet to wash my plate and glass, still is my dream world, when my cell phone rang.

_Click._ "You've got Dahlia."

"Hey, Dahl." It was my oldest and dearest friend, Sophie. When we were young she lived right across the street from me. Our parents set up play dates, and it wasn't long before we became inseparable. I don't think they really cared that I'd found a friend in the neighbor, but I was ecstatic to not feel so alone for once in my life. When she went to public school, and I continued homeschooling we got a little more distant, but we still make sure to keep in touch. She didn't care that I was different than the other kids she met at school, she didn't mind my constant need to recall information from the depths of my subconscious that was rarely ever relevant, and that made her just about the only true friend even after I went to college. Then things changed. I stopped being able to connect like I had with Sophie. I stopped being able to weed out the bullshit that we sometimes call modern life, so I stopped trying so hard to do well. I wanted it all to stop, but it only got worse. It got worse and she wasn't there for me anymore. She had new friends and a new life, so we stopped talking every day on the phone, and then it would be weeks, and then those weeks turned to months. Now I am lucky if I see her once a year. My best and only true friend. It's a shame, but distance does that to people, and people change. That's what they told me anyway. Her chipper voice threw me from my thoughts, "We're still good for our trip tomorrow, right?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: First thank you for my very first story favorite, Fenrir of the North. [Crazycool username, by the way.] Also, thank you for my first ever review, Vaughn Tyler. I hope this next chapter warrants wanting more to read for anyone who stumbles upon this story, and feel free to give input via Review or PM. I'm a budding author, and FanFiction is a great way to work on my style/quality/character development/everything basically, so all constructive critique is welcomed. THANK YOU FOR READING!**

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**Chapter 2: No One Really Likes Surprises**

Sometimes going nowhere fast is just a crutch.

If you aren't aiming for anything, then there's no pressure. You can never fail.

It's easier than putting yourself out there and trying to make a difference, trying to do something worth a damn.

Sometimes it can even be a kind of rebellion, like with me.

I could have done anything, been anyone, been successful, but I'm just stuck here. And here I stay.

The ultimate screw you to everyone in my life who tried to push their beliefs and dreams onto me.

Watch me stand still. Even if it means I miss out on what life has to offer.

They're probably just glad I am not still trying to kill myself.

The things we do for rebellion these days.

* * *

I packed my bags last night. I always do that; I shouldn't do that. I should've waited until this morning so I wouldn't have time to get so nervous. Sitting on the couch the clock on the wall started ticking louder than it normally did, and my arms itched.

Why was it so loud?

Why were they so itchy?

I know why, or at least I think I do. The itch was because I was going to see Sophie for the first time since it happened. I was going to see my closest friend for the first time since I had tried to check out of this life early. Now I had these scars on my arms that extended to my hands to the point that long sleeves wouldn't do much in hiding them; they were too obvious, she'd definitely say something about them. She'd have to now that she could see them, and she didn't have the shield of talking over the phone.

The last time we'd spent any actual time together, face to face, I had been able to hide my despondency like when I was younger, but now it would be all out there in the open for her to see. I know it was a mistake, a stupid mistake, but my mind was so tired of thinking and I just wanted to be done with it all. It didn't work out though. I guess I am kind of glad to still be around, or at least I am occasionally.

My mother said she called Sophie when I first got to the hospital that day to tell her about what I did, what had happened. She said that Sophie sounded angry about it, but she never once said anything about it during our talks of the phone since. I even tried to bring it up the last few times she called so that today wouldn't be so uncomfortable, but she'd change the subject or have to get off the phone. Maybe she just wants to pretend it didn't happen so that things can be normal between us. That would be nice, acting like it didn't happen, like my balloon never popped. I wanted to talk to her about it back then, but I don't think I do anymore. Too much time has passed, and the scars will fade eventually.

No use reopening them.

The clock continued to tick, and I continued to resist scratching under my sleeves.

A while later, long after my eyes glazed over, there was a knock at the door.

_A deep breath in. Fill your lungs and try not to worry so much. Let the worry float away, just like the doctor told you_.

I walked with forcefully calm steps over to the door and pulled it open, smiling as soon as I saw her. "Sophie!"

"Sorry we took so long, Dahl." She immediately stepped into my apartment and wrapped me in a hug. It was the same hug she had given me since we'd met when we were children. Nothing had changed, she was still my best friend.

After my relief wore off I realized what she said. _We._ I couldn't hide the confusion in my voice as she stepped back, "We?"

"Oh, I thought I told you last night, but I guess I forgot," she motioned to a man that I hadn't taken note of before, just about our age, standing just outside the doorway. "This is Steven." She paused for a moment, giving me time to do a once-over I suspect.

Immediately there was something that hit me the wrong way about him. It wasn't that he was unattractive or anything, there was just something about him that felt off. The way he was smiling, his eyes, they just weren't right. It didn't feel genuine. I took another deep breath in; _you're just anxious because you weren't expecting anyone else. It's natural to be anxious sometimes, Dahlia. Remember what they said. _I shrugged off the feeling once she continued on.

"We started dating a few weeks ago, and since he's all into the outdoors and stuff I thought it might be cool to have him come with us." She seemed happy enough, by the way she was looking at him, and hanging on his arm. I guess I don't have to like him as long as she does, right? That's how these things work sometimes, or at least that's how they go on television.

"Soph's told me all about you." His voice was deep, with a cold edge that I chose to ignore for Sophie's sake.

"All good things," she hummed as she looked over to me for a split second before getting lost in his face again. _That must be nice, feeling like that about anyone at all. I wonder if I'll get to have that. After the scars have faded, and I've learned to not think so much, then it will be easier for people to love me._

"That's… good, I guess," I cracked a smile as best as I could, pushing my thoughts from my mind as I nodded to the bags by the door. "Well, all my stuff's right here."

As I reached to pick up the largest of the three, Steve's hand shot to the strap, "I'll get that for you." He was down the hall before I could object.

She grabbed the smaller of the bags and followed suit singing back to me, "Isn't he the sweetest?"

Sweet wasn't the word I was thinking of. Unnerving. That was the word. Transitive verb. To make someone lose courage or confidence. That was it. My confidence in this trip was lost. I'm not extraordinarily social on my best days, and now there was Steve. Steve and my heebie-jeebies regarding him.

After I'd thrown my last bag into the back with their gear I climbed into the back of the SUV, which had to have been Steve's, because Sophie would never own something that ate up so much gas. _Stop it, Dahlia. This is supposed to be a camping trip to clear your head. Stop freaking out and relax. _I took another one of my psychiatrist prescribed breaths and listened to my own advice. This was a vacation from my vacation with my best friend. It will be fun, I just have to get all the cliché stuff out of the way.

The car's engine roared to a start and I broke the silence. "So, where'd you guys meet?"

And so began the longest two hours I've spent in any vehicle in my existence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Folie A Deux**

It's so much easier to trust when you are young; the world hasn't ruined you yet.

But then it all wears you down, and you become what I am: the textbook example of distrust.

I've often wondered if mankind was more trusting when it was young, like during the Golden Age. That's what the mythos would have you believe, but was there any stock to that?

I guess there are some questions that can never truly be answered.

* * *

The hum of the car and the scattered small talk kept me relatively calm for the duration of the ride, and for that I was grateful. Yes, my thoughts were still flowing like Niagara Falls, but it was bearable. I think it was because Sophie was there with me, even if she wouldn't stop wistfully watching Steven as he drove. She seemed happy; that's what matters. Maybe one day I'll be happy like that, too.

Once we entered the park where we were going to be camping the unremarkable conversation about how in love they were stopped, and all of our attention turned to the Washington forest around us. I loved all the green; it made things feel less heavy. I read a study once that concerned city planning and how the more foliage the happier people tended to be. Maybe that was my problem. I lived in a city with an occasional tree scattered in the concrete. Maybe I needed to live somewhere with more nature.

Steve took a turn off of the main road and down another that I almost couldn't tell existed. It wound closely to trees, and in places it was completely grown-over. "This seems like a nice spot," the instant the words left her lips the car had come to a halt.

Steve leaned over the center console to Sophie, planting a sickly sweet kiss on my old friend. "Whatever you want, babe."

I quickly opened the car door and hopped out, wiggling to each side in the hopes of shaking the tingling from my limbs. This had always been the strangest feeling to me. I loved it in some sense, the way it felt like sand pouring out of myself like I was an hourglass. Then again I hated it a bit, too. I always assumed that this was how you'd feel if you could turn invisible, like you just weren't there anymore.

"Let's set up the tent first, and go from there."

When they both joined me in our small clearing I decided to voice my slight concern, "It's a bit far away from the main road, don't ya think?"

"Yeah, so we won't be bothered." Sophie's smile seemed a little off. It wasn't quite like how I pictured it in my head, the corners of her mouth used to be higher.

_You're being ridiculous, Dahlia. She's the same as she always was. Relax._ I backtracked as cautiously as I could, "I just don't want to get a fine or something."

Steve pulled the tent out, and it slammed onto the ground, causing the smallest jump in my stomach. "It'll be fine, Dahl. Stop worrying so much."

I couldn't quite pinpoint the nature of his smile: reassuring? That must be it. I smiled back to him, if rather weakly. "You're right." I took a deep breath in, enjoying how fresh the air was way out here in the forest. I had been waiting for this for weeks. My vacation from my vacation, it was going to be fine as long as I calmed down. I mumbled my current mantra under my breath a few times, "Vacation, vacation, vacation." Once my heart rate decreased to something more human I joined Steve at the back of the car, "Let's set this thing up."

"That's the spirit." Sophie joined us, and eventually we picked out the area that was most even to lay the tent. Tents were always one of my favorite parts of camping. They are essentially one giant tarp with a hole in the front and a few sticks to hold it all up. Just some fabric and sticks, but they become a kind of home out here in the wilderness. A safe haven out in the elements where it feels like nothing can touch you; it's kind of like magic.

When the only thing left to do was put the stakes into the ground Steve paused. "We can take it from here, why don't you go find some sticks for the fire?"

I dusted off my hands and nodded. "I can do that." In fact, I was excited to get some time on my own out here. I always like to get the lay of the land before I get to comfortable, make my observations. I used to do it at parties, too. I think that's why I stopped being invited back.

_It's their loss, Dahlia. You are a smart girl with so much to offer the world, and someday someone will see that._ Was that even true, though? I picked up a few smaller twigs before moving on to the better sized ones, and the whole time I couldn't decide. Do I really have anything to offer this world? I could try to find the cures to diseases, but that kind of science always bore me. I could try to write an epic, but what good does that do? Who would want to listen to some trust fund kid who doesn't even want to live?

No one, that's who.

When my arms were full I slowly made my way back to our secluded campground.

I was already twenty or so yards away when I could hear Sophie whispering through the quiet of the trees, "_I still don't know if we should do this." _Don't want to do what? Sophie actually sounded troubled, which was a sudden mood shift from our overly cheery car ride. I stopped immediately, and angled my head so I could hear her better. _ "She was my best friend."_

Was?

_"Come on, it will be good for us." _ I felt my brows furrow in reflex to his words. First, I was her best friend, and now what? _ "She made her choice." _

Made what choice?

_"I know but-"_

Her worry was cut off by his words, _"Together forever."_

_"Together forever." _There was no more concern in her voice; it must have been transferred over to me, because now I felt nauseous.

I had no clue what to make of my worry though, so I took my hundredth deep breath of the day. _Just keep an ear open, try to figure out what they were talking about later. _For now I'd pretend to be happy. I'd done it for years, why couldn't I do it again?

"Hey, lovebirds," I strode forward in bouncing steps, nodding down to the sticks and branches that lay in my arms. "Think this is enough?"

Steve stood up from the pit they had dug in my absence. "Yeah, I'll go see if I can find a few larger pieces."

When he stepped out of our clearing Sophie called after him, "Hurry back."

There was a faint, "I will, babe," and he was out of sight.

I grabbed my bag from the back of the car and took a seat in a chair besides the soon-to-be fire pit.

It wasn't a full second before she piped up. "So, what do you think?" I glanced at her and she elaborated, "About me and Steve?"

I shrugged, "I don't know, it seems kind of intense."

"You're just saying that because you've never loved someone before," she snapped at me.

She'd never snapped at me before, even in my more socially inept days.

I agreed with her as quickly as I could, trying to mend whatever bridge I'd unknowingly burnt, "Yeah. I just don't know how it's supposed to be."

She seemed satisfied enough by my answer, and went about moving the various camping supplies from the car.

_Finally. _I unzipped my bag and pulled out the only book I'd brought with me on my trip. _A Game of Thrones_: the first volume in George R. R. Martin's epic _A Song of Ice and Fire._ I've read the books several times through, but each time I make a new note in the margin, and each time I find another detail about them that I love.

That's the thing about books… You can re-read a book and find it has completely changed. It doesn't even seem like the same book at points, because we change, and we aren't the same people who read them the last time.

I hadn't even gotten through the first line when another snap came from Sophie. "Seriously?"

I looked to her, honestly having no clue what I'd done this time. "What?"

She rolled her eyes at me. "You're going to read right now?" I raised my eyebrow, wondering what the problem was with getting a couple minutes of reading in. "It's just we don't have a whole lot of time."

I let out a low laugh, "We're here all week." I looked back down to the page as I continued, "You'll be sick of talking to me by the time you drop me off at home."

Then she did something I wasn't expecting. A hand reached over closed the book, her hand. "Please." She stared at me, a hint of sorrow in her eyes. Not only that, but it seemed genuine. It was only a few minutes of reading, but if it meant so much to her then I could wait.

I threw up my hands, "Alright, alright! I'm putting it away, just no more puppy dog eyes, please."

When I stuffed the book back where it had only just escaped, my sleeve slid up my arm to the elbow.

Sophie's eyes were glued to the long red line that ran the length of my forearm, healed now but still clear as day. Her eyes widened, in a kind of horror, then darted to the pit.

When she next spoke, her words were softer then they had ever been. "Why did you do it?"

I let out a small sigh. _Just answer her honestly. Then we can move on. _"I guess it just felt like there was nothing left for me here."

A solid sixty seconds passed without a word.

"She said you were dead," I had to strain to hear her now, "You died."

My face drained to complete blankness as I remembered that day. "Just for a minute."

_Good. Let's just get this all out in the open. Then we can be best friends again. _But her next question was so unexpected that my mouth hung open for a moment.

"What was it like?"

No one had asked me that. They'd asked me why, and what was I thinking, and if I was glad that someone had gotten to me in time, but never what being dead was like.

"Nothing." Again, I answered her truthfully. "I was nothing, everything was nothing; it was just… over." I could hear the rustle of bushes not too far off from camp, so I turned to Sophie. "Would you mind if we didn't talk about it around Steve?"

"Why not?" She seemed offended, but not as much as she had been only a few minutes earlier.

"I just don't know him that well yet."

"Okay."

I expected a struggle, but there wasn't one.

* * *

"Soph says your parents are loaded."

"Yeah." I had grown used to Steve's brash form of communicating over the course of the day. He still put me on edge, but at least I was becoming fastly familiar with the situation.

"That must've been nice growing up." He grabbed a handful of trail mix and shoved it in his mouth, crumbs flying out as he kept talking. "My family had nothing. Still don't."

Sophie leaned towards him the way she'd been doing all night, "You have me."

I smiled, swallowing the rest of the food in my mouth, "That's something money can't buy."

My words seemed to click something in his head. He pointed over to me, "Oh yeah, you don't date either, right?"

"Nope, never."

He nodded a few times. "Why not? No one good enough for you?" His tone bothered me. Did Sophie tell him I was pretentious? Is that what she thought of me, too?

I hastily shook my head and corrected him, "That's not it. I just don't see the point in it."

"Be more bleak." They both laughed, and I forced myself to join them for a few beats before I continued.

"It's just my mind is always going," I tapped my temples, "I'd like to fix that before I go and try to fall in love." There was a lull before I finished my thought, "Besides, I have no idea what love is anyway."

"What," Steve snorted, "Mommy and Daddy not hug you or something?"

My eyes lingered on the fire, "Something like that."

When I looked up they had inched close together and were now being far too affectionate for me to handle.

"I'm going to try to get some sleep," I stood up and smiled over to them. "We've got an early morning planned and I need my rest if I'm going to be able to keep up with you two."

* * *

**Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving me a review with your input on this chapter and the story as a whole. I'd love to get some critique so I can improve (that's one of the more practical reasons why I am doing this story). **

**There is going to be some fun stuff going on in upcoming chapters (especially the next one), so get stoked and tell your friends about this story! :)**

**THANK YOU! THANK YOU!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: The Fall Into Madness**

Betrayal is such an ugly word; it completely reflects its meaning.

I don't think I'd ever been betrayed. Yes, my life was devoid of any of the hundreds of incarnations of love. Yes, I found it painstaking to form even the most basic connections with the world in which I lived. Yes, I was very often sad. But I had never experienced the stab of true betrayal.

I should have been more thankful of that fact.

* * *

The first morning into our camping trip I woke up surprised that I had been able to sleep at all the night before. Sleep, though I'd often managed to trick myself into it, had a way of eluding me on a regular basis. I always assumed it was due to the constant buzz of my mind, and as far as I could tell I was right.

I was even more surprised to find Sophie and Steve already awake, making eggs on the stovetop they'd brought.

When I sat down beside them Sophie didn't even acknowledge me. It was Steve who broke the silence, "We were starting to think you'd never wake up."

I squinted in confusion. The sun was just barely coming up to the east; I couldn't have slept in that much. "Is it that late?"

"No," Sophie's voice was colder than the morning air.

An arm extended over to me, holding a plate with scrambled eggs on top as well as a fork. "Here, you'll need your strength."

I shot a weak smile in Steve's direction, "Thanks." The metal fork scraping the plastic plate was the only thing making any noise now. There weren't even birds singing in the distance to comfort me. _Just make some small talk. That will get rid of this uncomfortable feeling. _I finished the last few bites of my breakfast before making my attempt. "So how'd you guys sleep?"

Sophie's unfeeling voice sent a shiver down my spine, "We didn't."

"She was getting cold feet about today."

I let out a low chucked, "It's just a hike, Sophie. Nothing we haven't done before."

"Actually, Dahl, there's been a change in plan." Steve sat down from putting my plate away, now holding a large hunting knife in his hands which he quickly passed to Sophie.

I straightened up, now almost perched on the log I'd been sitting, "Okay…"

When Steve stood up again his demeanor had completely shifted. Whatever veil he'd been holding up since we'd met seemed to fall away. "See, Soph told me all about how you tried to kill yourself," my muscles tensed as he continued, "And that got me thinking."

I turned to Sophie, unable to hide how annoyed I was that she'd told him such a personal detail about my life or how utterly baffled I was becoming. "What's this about, Sophie?"

Steve's voice bellowed over to me, "Don't talk to her." I leaned back, fear growing as he walked around the pit towards me. "Do you have any idea what you put her through? You were best friends, and you didn't bother talking to her, didn't even try to tell her what you were going to do."

I turned back to Sophie, my mouth slung open. I hadn't known she'd been so hurt by what I'd done. I didn't think it was anyone else's business what I did with my life. I didn't know she'd be hurt by it. When it had happened we hadn't spoken for months. Every time I made plans for us to talk she'd have to cancel last minute. I tried. "You were busy, and I didn't want to bother-"

Steve yelled at me louder this time as I felt his fist hit the side of my face, "I said don't talk to her."

I reeled back, my vision blurring as Sophie's frozen words came through, "It doesn't matter now." I saw her hazy figure get up from her seat and stand beside Steve, "It's going to make it so we are bonded for life, right?"

"Right, babe." I could just barely make out them kissing as I continued trying to figure out what the hell was happening today.

"What's going to," I lowered my hand from my face, noting the red smudges on my fingers, my voice full of horror and concern, "bond you for life?"

"We're going to kill you." Steve answered, and then elaborated, "We're going to bury you out here, and no one is going to find you. No one will probably look, anyways."

I stood up, trying to stop my head from spinning as best as I could. "What the fuck happened to you?" I glared over to Sophie as she had done to me a thousand times, only she truly warranted it, "Have you gone off the deep end?"

"You don't even want to live. You don't deserve to."

What had Steve told her? What the hell had happened to my friend? I'd read about this kind of psychotic phenomena, but was this real? This couldn't be real. The fog started to dissipate, and my vision began to clear. "Still doesn't justify murder."

"You were already dead, so it doesn't count."

I shot Steve the dirtiest look I could muster, "Are you really that stupi-What the," I felt a pinch on my arm. When I looked down I saw Sophie's manicured hand, with pink nail polish and daisies painted on the thumb, wrapped around the hunting knife that was now slicing through the skin mid-way up my forearm. I yanked my arm back, turning towards the forest. "Fuck!"

"She's getting away." Sophie, what happened to you?

"I'll get her."

"What do I do?" I couldn't make out Steve's reply. I was too busy getting the hell out of there.

I didn't hear anything after that for almost a minute, or at least it felt like it. I didn't want to hear anything, I just wanted to get as far away from them as possible and maybe find some help. A ranger, or a family or someone. Then I can try to process the clusterfuck of shared delusion that just went homicidal on me, by for now I need to run.

I ran faster than I ever did on my morning jogs. It wasn't difficult at first, but eventually I could feel it getting to me.

And though I might have been escaping fast, but he was faster at pursuing me.

It felt like the harder I pushed myself the closer the footfalls behind me were getting, and that wasn't even the worst of my problems.

The cut on my arm was bleeding. Bad. The more I bled the more clarity was lost from my vision, but that's not what mattered. I needed to run. I needed to run faster. I needed to find the road and get the hell out of here. I just need to see well enough to not fall off any cliffs, or run into any trees. That and run. I needed to go faster.

A gunshot rang out just as the bark flew off of a nearby tree, and I stumbled only to instantly pick myself back up in order to keep going.

That shot wasn't even a foot away from me.

_Just keep running. That's all you can do. _

That's a lie. I _could _always just stop and let the inevitable happen. I could face the betrayal of my closest friend; I _could_ face the most severely fucked up person I'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. I could face the noose that I'd only barely slipped out from those months ago.

_No. You can get out of this. You can survive. You came back before, there has to be a reason for that, right? _

A hundred yards away I could see the makings of a clearing.

Is that my best bet?

My gut was screaming at me to head for it.

But I wouldn't have the cover of trees.

Shit.

I didn't have facts, not now. There was no information that I could pull up to make this choice any easier. There was nothing that could help me now. What's the use of remembering everything if it doesn't help me? What's the use of the doctors saving me if I just end up dying a few months later?

What's the point of any of this?

_Fuck it, I'll go for the clearing. _

When I finally decided I was already breaking through the last of the pine trees at a sprint, and in the distance I could see people.

Were they people? Or was it a bunch of bushes? No, they were moving around beside a larger blob. That must be a building of some sort, but out here? Who cares, the moving figures were people; they had to be people.

Real people. There was a large group of them, and horses too. Horses? _I'll take it._ I didn't slow down as I ran towards them, in truth I sped up. Salvation was just a few hundred yards away, and I needed to get there before another shot came my way.

My legs kept pumping and I got closer and closer. They were becoming clearer now; several men all dressed in some kind of renaissance gear.

_LARPers… Out here? Who cares? I'll take it. _

Anyone would have done, I guess, regardless of their hobbies, and as the men started becoming clearer to me I even felt confident enough to glance back.

Steve wasn't there. There was no sign of him at the tree-line either. The LARPers must have scared him off.

I slowed my gait steadily at this realization, and by the time I was within earshot of them I was at a light jog. "Help! Someone is trying to kill me!"

The men who were not already looking at me now had no choice but to look over.

"I was cut pretty badly," my hand now wrapped the hold in the blood-soaked sleeve where Sophie had cut me.

The man who looked to be the leader of this group of LARPers stepped towards me as I closed the rest of the distance at a brisk walk, "My men will assist you."

One of the older men came to me next, "Are they far behind you?"

"I think you've all already scared him off," I huffed, pulling my injured arm tight to my body as a gust of wind chilled me.

"This direction?" He stepped towards where I'd just came from, pulling his prop sword out slightly. It made the most realistic sound, I'd have sworn there was actually metal scraping against leather. The blade looked far too real as well. Before I could comprehend what I was seeing two other men started towards the woods.

"No, don't!" They looked back at me, "He's got a gun. He'll kill you."

"Gun?" The older man looked at me as though I was speaking another language. These LARPers were serious about their craft, I had to hand it to them.

"He's just very dangerous." I looked back to the leader; "We need to get out of here, now."

The lead LARPer's face showed no worry as he spoke. "What is your name, foreigner?"

His accent was impressive to disrupt my train of thought for a few moments until I was finally able to mutter out a response. "Dahlia Emerson," I paused for only a split second before giving a small, if not weak, bow.

"You have my word, as Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, we will take you to safety as soon as we can. But first we have a matter to attend to."

"Oh," I bowed slightly once more. "Of course, my Lord." Judging by the man in shackles and the beheading block not ten yards away, they were acting out Bran's first chapter. I scanned the group, trying to find someone who looked a little more normal but also wanting to not be on the outskirts where a gunshot might more easily hit me. Eventually I maneuvered my way over to what I'd only assume were the Stark children, only they appeared older than they were portrayed in the books. _Still dead on, though. _I tried to stand as properly as possible, shoulders back and everything, but the wound on my arm was making it difficult. _It's not that deep, at least. You cut deeper than that. _I quickly shook the thought out of my head and spoke to the boy nearest me, glancing over at 'Lord Stark' talking to the 'deserter' and speaking out of the corner of my mouth, "I'm a fan." He seemed confused by my statement, but I continued regardless. Frankly, I needed to talk to someone. My mind was racing all over the place and I had this utterly lonely feeling in my gut now that Sophie had betrayed me. Talking might help. "Who are you in all this?" Again a confused look crossed his face. "Wait, let me guess…" I scanned his features and immediately I knew, "Robb Stark, right?"

He broke his silence, "How did you know that?"

I smiled up at him, a rush of lightheadedness hitting me, "You're almost exactly what I pictured him to be, if not exactly."

My compliment was met by yet another confounded stare, so I turned back to the performance. The boy spoke up, "You should look away. It is not a sight for a woman."

I glanced up to him, "I'll be fine." When I looked back to the scene I was just in time to see 'Lord Eddard Stark' raise Ice and in one quick swing…

The man's head fell to the ground.

That was… real blood coming out of him. His head was… it wasn't on his body anymore. This was real.

Without being able to control myself I lurched forward, vomiting up the eggs I'd nearly forgotten about in the fray.

Then everything went black.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, finally into A Song of Ice and Fire. Needless to say I am not George R. R. Martin, therefore I don't own anything. Basically, if you recognize it then it isn't mine, and if you don't then it's mine. Fair? Also, I'd really love some feedback at this point. I know that things got especially crazy in this chapter, and I'd love some input. I'd love to hear that I'm not alone in all of this mess. THANK YOU FOR READING! Please REVIEW! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: SPOILERS! For goodness sake SPOILERS! If you haven't finished the first five books (the ones that are currently published), then please read with caution knowing that there will be spoilers galore. That's what happens when an avid reader gets thrown into that world, SPOILERS... Now that that is over, _thank you for reading._ Thank you for the follows, reviews, and input! Keep it up, especially with this chapter because it's getting into everything more. It is a longer chapter, so heads up. PLEASE REVIEW WITH CRITIQUE. It helps me to no end, and it will help me make any corrections I might need to make. THANK YOU! **

* * *

**Chapter 5: The Thing About Fate Is…**

I have never been the most grateful of people; maybe that's been my problem in life.

Just about every self-help book out there emphasizes thankfulness, but I never quite got that far. It was never a natural thing for me, or at least that's what I always figured.

I guess I've always blamed my lack of gratitude on my parents. Everything they ever gave me came at a price. Fit their mold even if it was detrimental to my happiness. Every bit of kindness they showed me was immediately covered in insincerity and obligation. Love was never involved, at least not that I could see, and I was diligently looking.

Does that then mean I am an ungrateful person? Or will I, given the right circumstances, be able to appreciate something – anything? Does my need for detachment stem solely from them, or is it inherent in me? Can I ever truly care about anything?

I've never been in a situation where I could find out.

* * *

When I finally found consciousness, the smell of stone and fur were the first things to fill my senses. It was far more comforting than any lullaby I'd ever heard or home I've known. Then it was the soft clack of something or someone else in the room, but I didn't want to open my eyes to find out. Not yet. _There is no way this is real. I'm still asleep, dreaming the morning away in the tent. I can prove it. _I opened my eyes, only slightly, to see the stone of the ceiling above me. There was so much detail to it. I never dreamed in that much detail before. _No, it's a dream. Definitely a dream. Do something so you know it's a dream, Dahlia. Fly or something. _I tried my best to fly. Nothing. Then I tried to float, just a little. Nothing happened. _What does that even mean? There's no way this can actually be happening. Did I die? Or fall into a coma? Is this what being in a coma is like?_

I sat up slowly, noting the window to the left of the bed where I was laying. The sky was gray, but beautiful, not like the gray skies in the city where I lived. And I could feel a chill emanating from the outside and hitting my face. When I spoke my voice cracked, "Th-at's interesting."

The clacking in the room stopped. "Oh, you're finally awake, dear girl." I jumped slightly at the old woman's voice. Turning towards her I knew instantly who she was. The oldest woman in Winterfell, Old Nan.

"Awake," I gave a weak chuckle for nobody's benefit but my own, "It doesn't feel like it, Nan."

Her wrinkled face shifted into a small smile, "Have we met before?"

"No," I shook my head, my thoughts drifting to the chapters of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ where she'd made her appearances telling stories. I snapped back to attention when she began her knitting once more, "But I know who you are." There were trace amounts of confusion in her eyes, but they dissipated as soon as I continued. "So, I'm in Winterfell?"

"Where else would you be?"

I sighed, "Nowhere." It was only then when I noticed the fabric on my arms. It was thick, and nothing like what I was wearing during my escape from Steve and Sophie. I looked under the blanket, finding a dress where my pants should have been. Without an ounce of filtering I spoke out loud, "My clothes!?"

"The one's they brought you here in were covered in blood and sick," she answered without looking up, "Lady Catelyn said you could wear one of her old dresses from when she was younger."

Catelyn. Lady Stoneheart. She was still alive here, still Cat. Nothing had happened to any of them yet. I went back to examining my new ensemble, still thinking of the fate of the Starks. "That was really nice of her, I'll need to thank her." Suddenly the old woman stood up and started for the door in the far corner of the room. I called out, too loudly almost, "Where are you going?"

She didn't stop, so I could barely make out what she said as she shut the door behind her. "They will want to know you are awake."

_They? The Starks? _I immediately felt dizzy at the thought. Characters from a fictional book, living and breathing and about to be thrown into troubling times. _Deep breaths, Dahlia. It's fine. You're safe, right? They saved you, remember? _Saved me. Did they save me or am I dead in the Washington woods somewhere?

That thought hit me the hardest… _Am I dead?_ The walls began to close in on me, as they had before when things would get too heavy, when I was still fighting daily panic attacks. _Air, I need air. _I threw the blanket off of myself and stepped onto the stone floor. _I need air. Where do I go? _I quickly remembered one of my favorite places depicted in the books, the place where the Northerners go when they want to speak to their Old Gods. The godswood. I quickly scanned the room and found a pair of shoes. They were a size too big for me, and not as sturdy as my hiking boots, but they'd work for today. I slid them on before stepping out of the room and into a long, dark hallway. _I just need air. And advice, I could use some advice. _I set off down the hall, then down some stairs, then out of a door that luckily led me outside. I could barely enjoy the sight of it all. No, I couldn't. Not now. All I could wonder was if I was dead or not, and if I wasn't, then what? What the hell was I doing here? What was I going to do here? _I have no money; I have nothing. What am I supposed to do? _

Soon I found what must have been the godswood. The trees had a sort of ominous charm to them, and I could see a path through. _This must lead to the weirwood. That's where I need to go. Maybe I can find the answers there. _My pace quickened from a trot to a full-out run. It felt nice to be running, the stiffness that had built up in my legs wore off with a few strides. _How long was I sleeping? Am I still asleep? No, I'm probably dead. _It was less than a minute before I reached the pale tree, its red sap face stared at me but I was not scared of it. I had seen far worse, especially now.

When I reached it, and the black pool beside it, I felt better. I don't know why; I think some places are just like that.

I'd prayed only a few times before, to my parents' God. At the time I'd asked for God to make my parents love me. I asked for God to make me normal, but those prayers were never answered. The 'Good Book' lost its charm over me, and I tried to find a religion that suited me, but it was impossible. Then, when I first read the books of _A Song of Ice and Fire_ the God of Death, the Many-Faced God, made the most sense to me, because I knew it was real. We all die. I died that night that I cut open my arms, and it is only thanks to the wonders of modern medicine that I came back. And now... Now I might be dead again even. But that wasn't the god I needed to pray to now. _The Old Gods. That's who can help me here. In this world, in Winterfell, they are who I need to speak to. _I sat down at the base of the white tree and looked up into its face. "What am I supposed to do?" My voice was as quiet as a whisper, "Am I dead?"

It stared back at me, unflinching.

"Is any of this real?" I touched the cool bark, then the ground, "It feels real, but… But I know it can't be." I felt a low heat behind my eyes as I continued, "If it is, then how did I get here? Can I go back? Do I have to?" The air here was so crisp and clean, and in these lands corporations didn't exist. My parents wouldn't be able to make me hate myself. Here I could be free to be myself. "I don't think I want to go back." Then a fear struck me; I didn't want to go back, but, since I had made it here unknowingly, I would have no idea if and when those same supernatural powers will throw me back to reality. I had never truly been happy, not even kind of, and here I could maybe make a new start. I could be myself, I could try to be happy. A clean slate in a world that is about to turn into a war zone. I felt the heat spread to the rest of my face, and everything began to blur with the coming tears. It felt so strange to me, to be crying. I hadn't cried since I was four, and even then it was only for a moment. Now I was sobbing alone in a godswood, a world away from my home, praying that I wouldn't have to go back. I heard faint footsteps in the forest behind me, but I couldn't compose myself. I couldn't stop my pleas. I spoke to the Old Gods in the loudest voice I could muster, "It's so beautiful here, I want to stay. Please, let me stay."

The steps were close now, and with them there was the yapping of a puppy.

I looked away from the tree before me and over to the figure approaching. I wiped the tears from my eyes while sucking in a deep breath the second I realized who it was.

"They've been looking for you." It was Robb Stark and his young direwolf, Grey Wind.

"Am - I - in trouble?" I choked out as casually as I could, all the while the wolf pup was struggling to get free from his arms.

"I don't think so," he set the squirming ball of fur down on the ground, at which point it clumsily bounded over to my lap, "They were just worried that your pursuer found you."

"He's worlds away now." I ran my hand through the baby direwolf's fur, and a calming feeling washed over me as I looked back to Robb, "I just needed to come here."

As I stood up, picking up tiny Grey Wind with me, he spoke again. "You worship the Old Gods?"

"Perhaps." I glanced back to the tree, my eyes flooding again as we started walking back, "I thought - they could help me figure out what to do now."

"I upset you."

From what I could see, he looked genuinely concerned. "No, no." I hastily corrected him with the only smile I could force, "I just have too much on my mind. I always do." Another soft yip brought my attention back to the puppy I was carrying. "What's his name?" I figured I would ask even if I knew the answer. _I guess those etiquette lessons will come in handy after all._

"Grey Wind."

"He's a cute puppy," I rubbed the beast's belly, my smile becoming more natural, "My parents never let me have a pet growing up, which was ridiculous, because they had so much money."

"So you are highborn?"

This was a question I knew how to answer. "Our class system is different where I come from. It has less to do with names and more to do with money, but I'd be the equivalent of a highborn." It was an honest answer. I looked over to Robb, who had been walking a half of a step in front of me. "Is it alright that I'm carrying him?"

"Just be careful, he's a direwolf." His voice swelled with pride, and I couldn't blame him.

Grey Wind, even as a puppy, was something wonderful. _It's a shame what happens._ I pushed the thought from my mind as I answered him. "I will be."

We walked past several old oaks before something seemed to strike him. He turned to me, and unfastened the cloak from his shoulders. "You must be cold."

"It's alright," I tried to side-step away, "No really."

"I insist," he said as he set its warm fur collar around my neck, causing the bottom to drag on the ground.

As soon as the warmth spread I stopped objecting. It was colder in Winterfell than it had ever been where I came from, even in Washington. I was thankful for another layer, if not unused to chivalry. I laughed out loud, "You're definitely Lord Stark's son." Just then, when I looked at him, Grey Wind's small face in my peripheral, I was struck with the truth again. They were going to die. They were going to die a sad death, and yet here they were being kind to me. A rush of sorrow came over me, and tears fell once again. "I'm sorry, I haven't cried this much since I was a baby."

"What has you crying?"

I couldn't tell him the truth, at least not that truth. "I used to feel so alone, but now that I actually have no one…" I took in a stammering breath, "I don't have anything. Nothing. Now I'm homeless."

When I wiped my eyes I could see the wheels turning inside his head, "Where do you come from, foreigner?"

"Someplace far away. Very far. Farther that the Dothraki lands." The wheels turned some more, causing an uncomfortable silence as we stood there in the forest. I waited until I couldn't stand it before speaking out, "And call me Dahlia, foreigner makes me think of that lame band… Hot Blooded was alright, but the rest is kind of…" I stopped my rambling, realizing he wouldn't understand a word of it. "Sorry."

Then he said something I didn't expect.

"I will see if Father will let you stay here," he seemed to nod in agreement with himself, "You said your parents are rich?" I swiftly nodded in response. He started walking once more, "That will help."

"I can't get their money though. They might as well not even exist anymore."

I didn't know if he heard me until he mumbled, "I will still see."

* * *

Once we were out of the godswood I was feeling a bit better. It might have been the cute direwolf pup in my arms, or that my mind was starting to acclimate to everything, but it didn't really matter. I wasn't so sad anymore. Once we entered the place that looked unmistakable similar to a castle I was led through a series of hallways until we reached a sort of sitting room where we came to a stop. I could feel a ball of nerves in my stomach, the stress of having no idea where I was going or if I would be safe, but there was something else there as well.

I was grateful, for the first time in my nineteen years.

Of all the people who could have found me, it was Robb and Grey Wind, both of which had showed me nothing but concern and kindness. It's not that I wouldn't expect that sort of thing from Ned Stark's son, but it hit me in the strangest way. I looked to him and smiled with ease, "I'm glad you're the one who found me, Robb."

"Why's that?"

"You've been so nice to me. It's not something I'm really used to." I couldn't maintain eye-contact any longer, so I turned down to the direwolf, "Thank you."

"Wait here while I speak to them."

"Okay." He reached out, and I could feel my arms tense in anxiety around the puppy in my arms as I spoke, "Can he stay with me?"

"Fine."

Without another word he disappeared into an adjacent room, and I was left to stew in my own worries. _Lucky I still have someone to keep me company, even if it is just a wolf._

There were no clocks to tell me how long I sat waiting, and a part of me was glad for that. From my estimate it was at least an hour, probably closer to two of me sitting in silence, running over everything that had happened in the past few days, running over the plots of the five books of the series I had read. All the while, Grey Wind was bouncing clumsily around the room. _I can't let you die. Not like that. _

Once he'd calmed down again I was able to sit him in my lap again. "I hope I get to stay." My words startled him for a moment, but he must have deemed me safe, because he went back to his nap. _I don't know what I would do if they made me leave here._ That thought went on repeat in my mind. I couldn't become a whore; it just wasn't something I would be able or willing to do. I couldn't do anything really, could I? _I just need to stay here…_ "At least until I figure out-" I paused, wondering exactly what I needed to figure out. How to get back? Going back to that unhappy life, comfortable as it was, was not even remotely what I wanted. I wanted to stay here, with the clean air and the beautiful surroundings. Here, where things like honor were simple and the media isn't splattered everywhere. There was only one thing I really needed to decide. I whispered my request, "Until I know what I'm supposed to do next."

I had only just stopped speaking when the door across the room opened, and Robb motioned for me to join them in the room.

I walked with hesitant steps, clinging to the sleeping wolf, into a room not entirely different from the one that I had been sitting in before. There were two other people in there, besides Robb and myself: Lord Eddard Stark and his wife Catelyn.

She spoke first. "My son has asked that you be allowed to stay here in Winterfell."

It took me a few beats to answer, because I was too busy looking at the woman. It was true, she didn't look like she belonged here in the North, but there was definite beauty in her face. Suddenly I felt very small. "I don't really have anywhere else to go, my Lady."

She continued as my eyes darted over to look at Lord Eddard. In the field I hadn't taken much note of him, for all I knew he was a L.A.R. , but I knew better now. Now I knew that he was THE Ned, and THE Ned was looking at me intently. "Robb said your parents are wealthy. What is your house name?"

"Emerson."

Her brow furrowed. "I'm not familiar with this house."

_Deep breath, Dahlia. You can maneuver this, you've read the books at least a dozen times. _When I spoke again there was a confidence in my words that I wasn't expecting. "That's because I came a long way to be here."

Finally, Lord Stark spoke. "Why?"

Why? _Shit, I don't have a good answer and somehow I don't think they'll take the whole 'magically appeared here' thing for truth. Think, think! What will THE Ned understand? _Then it all clicked. "Honor." I saw his eyebrow raise up slightly. "Where I come from it's very rare, so I came here to Winterfell."

Catelyn was next, "Alone?"

I didn't think I could fake any more sureness, so I opted to just nod to answer.

"Can you be of use to us?"

_Shit. Think, Dahlia, think! _"I can play music," I practically blurted out, "For the King's visit." She seemed to nod slightly, considering if it was a viable answer. I kept going though. "And I'm decent with children, if you ever need someone to look after the little ones. I babysat once, and they said I was fun." My mouth kept on moving so that my brain had to reel to catch up. "I'm also reasonably educated in a bunch of different subjects, I can be a tutor. I've done that before a few times."

"What can you teach?" I was surprised when it was Robb spoke this time.

"Math, that's what I've tutored children in before." I could feel my shoulders beginning to relax as I continued, "Also, writing and reading, and I can box, too, and yoga, but I don't think you need that."

"Make boxes?"

I laughed, but only slightly. "No, it's a style of fighting, normally for sport." Lord Stark straightened up in what I assumed was interest. "You don't use weapons."

"Brawling?"

"A bit like that," I shrugged, now looking directly at THE Ned, "But more refined."

Catelyn quickly spoke up before Lord Stark could ask me anymore questions. "What instrument do you play?"

"Most of them, and I'm a fair singer." Then it struck me that they wouldn't have modern instruments here. _You watched that documentary on making acoustic guitars. You could probably manage that, and it would still sound better than a lute. _"I can even make a new kind of instrument, it's a little like a lute, but better, if there's enough time."

THE Ned spoke again, "Robb said he found you by the weirwood, praying to the Old Gods."

I nodded, calming down again as I remembered why I was there and exactly what was going on in my life. "I was hoping they would help me."

I couldn't tell how any of them felt about my answer, or anything I had said. My stomach knotted up again when Lord Stark broke the silence. "Give us a moment, please." His eyes looked from my to his son, "You too, Robb."

* * *

We were only sitting for a few minutes when Robb stood up and turned to me, "Don't worry."

"It's difficult not to," I admitted, taking yet another 'calming' breath. "It's been a long time since I've felt this scared."

He opened his mouth to say something just as another one of the people from the beheading came into the room. "So you found her then?" I looked him over, just as he was doing to me. It wasn't hard to guess who he was, the cocky smile was a dead giveaway that it was none other than Theon Greyjoy. Once he was finished sizing me up I might as well not even been in the same room. "Where?"

"The godswood." The Ironborn seemed surprised by this, and why that was I didn't really bother to try to understand. Robb must've felt the new tension in the room, because he seamlessly shifted into an introduction, "This is Theon Greyjoy. He helped bring you back to Winterfell when you…"

_When I puked, then passed out. What a first impression to make. _"Thank you," I smiled over to him and noticed that the thanks didn't feel forced. _Think of what he becomes, maybe you can help him?_ I shook the thought from my head as I introduced myself to the Stark's ward. "I'm Dahlia Emerson."

Before any more pleasantries were shed the door across the room opened once more. Lord Eddard nodded me over and I jumped up, only turning to the two boys to whisper a quick, "Wish me luck."

It was time to hear what my fate was going to be, and from the mouths of two people whose fate I knew too well no less.


End file.
